broken hearts and bent souls
by onceuponacaptain
Summary: Collection of Captain Swan and Lieutenant Duckling drabbles/oneshots. Some will be AU. Send prompts to tumblr (inside).
1. it beats only for you

**A/N: First of the indefinite CS/Lieutenant Duckling drabbles/oneshots to come! May post "stuck" and "how to be flexible" later. Enjoy this little Lieutenant Duckling one :) **

**Prompts-Send to my tumblr, as-you-wishlove  
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**Disclaimer: I do not, sadly, own Killian or Emma. Pity :c  
**

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A little black haired boy came bounding toward Emma, covered in soot and filth, but she felt a smile rising to her face as soon as she caught a glimpse of the soiled figure.

"Emma, Emma! I want you to feel this!" An overeager Killian beamed at the princess, who couldn't decide whether to be amused or annoyed at her friend. However, she couldn't ignore the way he smiled and how it made Emma's heart quicken, a sensation she only ever felt with the young stable boy in training (or when she was under pressure).

"Killy, what? What is it?" She unconsciously took a step forward, looking as lovely as ever to those who looked on, with a curious yet sweet expression in her eyes that added to the appeal of her childish glow.

"Just feel it!" Killian stuck out his bony chest proudly, almost falling over in the attempt and causing the sound of his and Emma's giggles to fill the courtyard until tears watered from both their eyes. "E_mmm_a! Pl_eeeas_e!" he protested weakly, regaining control of his emotions after a few minutes of laughing.

"Wait, Killy, why?" As Emma looked at him curiously, the stable boy in training could no longer resist temptation and grabbed her hand and pressed it to his chest before Emma could process what he was doing.

Shocked and breathless from the sudden movement by her companion, the princess had to wait a moment before she could focus on hearing the marvel her friend so insisted on her hearing. "I-It's so fast," she whispered, in awe. Emma had never felt or heard a beating heart and her stable boy's (not hers, why did she say that?) had the loudest, fastest thumping, more than she could've imagined.

As her head was pressed against his chest, Killian looked down at the only girl he'd ever cared for as much, probably more, than himself, and smiled slightly. A strange tingle spread toward him, one part happiness, another part the desire to protect her and shield her from harm, though she _would_ never let him, even though he _was_ older. (She _always_ bossed him around and it was completely unfair but he let her do it anyway, as to why he was clueless.)

Her head still pressed to Killian's chest, Emma drew in a sharp, stilted breath as she looked up and met her friend's eyes. (Had they _always _been this blue, like the ocean at night touched by the stars?) "K-Killy," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, as she felt that her small heart was going to explode with these feelings running through her, "Is it...is it because of me?"

A moment, with silence broken only by the sweet chirping of the birds filling the courtyard and the sounds of breaths by the two children, passed as both stared deep into the other's eyes, both experiencing tender new sensations; Emma feeling completely satisfied yet powerless, and Killian utterly breathless and amazed...

"As you wish, love," Killian said softly, smiling gently at his friend and grabbing her hand while refusing to let go as they played for the rest of the afternoon.


	2. the blue of your eyes

**A/N: Enjoy and have a happy Friday the 13th :) Thanks for all the favs, follows and feedback! (haha triple f)  
**

**Prompts-Send to my tumblr, as-you-wishlove  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not, sadly, own Once Upon a Time, or any of its characters. One can only dream :c**

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To this day, Emma was still uncertain as to what particular shade of blue his eyes were.

It was, to be honest, a trivial issue, but it bothered her nonetheless and for some reason when she was alone she found her thoughts floating back to that small matter of the color of his eyes.

When Emma had first met the man formerly known as Captain Hook-not Killian Jones, that came much, much later-she was taken aback by the sharp coldness of his eyes and how they cut through her, piercing her soul. Despite the fact that they were beautiful, his eyes (she could admit that freely now), and were a light blue a shade lighter than the sky, what haunted her the most was what his eyes held.

Nothing. No emotion driving him, as if his feelings had been ripped from his body and all that was left was a shell. Sure, he had charisma and charm at first, she would have given him that, but he looked empty. No smile reached his eyes, no anger set them ablaze.

And how he had gone so far, Emma had no desire to know, but it scared her, how alive but _dead_ he was. Part of her felt sympathy towards him, but most of her was enthralled and trapped by him and she needed to escape and run away from him, and that she did.

She remembered the first time she had seen his eyes filled with an emotion, though. It was a lethal combination of fury and sorrow and she could see all he wanted was revenge when he hurt Belle but the former _Dark One_, of all people, was not a force to be reckoned with.

Apparently, neither was Captain Hook.

When she caught his gaze, though just for a second, she wanted to melt into the ground, which was saying _a lot_, because Emma Swan did _not_ back down. But his eyes, how they overflowed with such anger and power and passion and hatred, made her realize that however his first love, Milah, had died, Rumplestiltskin had a part to play in it.

It frightened her and still made her shudder when she thought of how black his eyes turned, such a deep navy blue that the whites of his eyes looked unaturally vivid and his pupils could no longer be seen.

Even to this day, she was sure it was the lowest she had ever seen him.

She then observed him, his actions and his face, when he came back to help rescue Henry. She was just gauging to see if he was sincere, if it showed on his face and in his eyes (at least, that's what she told herself) and she was surprised at how utterly different his eyes had looked from before.

It was like observing a lake thaw out for the first time, as if the heat and intensity of her watchful glare had melted him. (And that was_ exactly_ when she should have sensed there was something there but she refused to see it and now she was stuck, stuck and trapped and perfectly happy with him but she had never imagined it...)

He appeared more like a captain and less like a pirate, as if he had once been a man of honor (she hadn't know then but she knew now, who he truly was). Though she ignored it, she could see his hurt now, the little flowers of pain blooming behind that wall of ice he had constructed brick by brick. She could see herself in his eyes, her reflection, she could read him like an open book as he did her and it just _pissed _her off so much, that a person could have eyes like he did. They trapped her and ensnared her and she just _could not_ run away from him.

When exactly had he ceased to become Captain Hook and started to become Killian Jones? When had his eyes changed from empty to overflowing to full and complete? She was never sure.

Maybe it was when he took them to Neverland, or perhaps it was when they had shared that kiss full of fire and fervor and intensity. Maybe it was when he told her he loved her, or when they returned to Storybrooke and he gave her space and they were spared from the curse and he saved her, he was the savior this time for all of them (but especially her, oh god how he'd saved her and fixed her and made her whole).

But the conclusion she always came to was this: All she knew was that every time she met his eyes, she now saw an ocean, an ocean she was drowning in, one that was filled with hope and love and sacrifice. It was undeniable, and she knew that the boy with the eyes of the sea had saved her.

One could take him away from the sea but one would never take the sea out of him. He'd swept her off her feet and into his ocean and he'd mended her and made her whole. And it all started, she reveled, with one look at his eyes.


	3. oysters and pearls

**A/N: Sorry for the late update, it's just that finals have been stressful and studying's taken up most of my time. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Set sometime in Neverland after Killian's reveal in Echo Cave, probably before the shadows take him and Neal.  
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_Does it even matter_?

When he looked at her, there was a divide in her eyes, one that ripped her in two; he could see the angel telling her to "select Neal, it will make Henry happy" and the devil telling her to "choose Killian, be happy, do yourself this one little favor," both figures perched on her shoulder, their voices echoing in the corners of her mind.

Every movement she made was contradictory; she held out her arm for him, but searched for Neal and every _little motion_ sent a new burst of pain running through him, the feeling that a bubble of his hope had been burst just as it began to rise to the top. He longed to know her, not just from observations but from her actual words themselves.

_It shouldn't matter. _

He needed her to be happy, to see that _smile_ of hers that illuminated her face, to hear that chuckle she had, the _genuine_ one, that was raspy and sweet and melodic. But right now it was painfully obvious that she was the exact opposite, a rift driven through her heart, and he just wanted to talk to her; hell, if she had offered to chat with him, with him just as a shadow in the background, he would have been there in three seconds flat. He loved hearing that voice of hers, how it was gruff and raspy when she tried (and failed) to mask her emotions; how it could be broken or thrilled or somewhere in between, he just longed to hear the melody that was Emma Swan's voice.

For once in his life, he had not been able to rise to the challenge and it irked him. He was at a loss as to how to get her to open up. Spontaneously, he smiled at a long-lost memory and fingered the pearl in his pocket. It had been a long, long process getting at that milky white treasure, but its sentimental value was the sole reason he kept it instead of his other jewels and treasures.

The situation, Emma mostly, reminded him of when he went oyster diving back in those days where life had not yet been fraught with darkness and challenges and depression. One of the oysters had been especially hard to open one time, even for him being unusually strong for a nine-year-old boy, and he had to ask for the aid of Liam. Despite the bittersweet feelings stirring up in him whenever a memory of his contained his brother (_his stupid, goddamn, bloody, loyal, stubborn fuck of a brother_), the memory made him smile.

When Liam had managed to pry the oyster open after many hours of labor and many different tactics tried upon it, a lovely sight awaited them, for though that oyster's shell was one of the particularly grotesque ones, within it lay that soft, fleshy pink meat and a pearl, covered in mucus secreted from the oyster, but regardless reflecting the light, shining through the darkness that obscured its glory.

Though the two of them were pitifully neck-deep in poverty Killian could not deny himself that one selfish act, and he took the pearl and kept it as a memento, not just for the gleeful shrieks and impatient glares and frustrated sighs that he and his brother had shared while they took no breaks as they alternated taking turns opening that damn oyster, but as the first rule of his code of honor.

_Throughout life, I will encounter a variety of other people. Whether they care for me or not is under their realm of judgment and not mine. However, I can attempt to turn the circumstances in my favor by never assuming that people are who they appear to be; sometimes the saddest or the poorest have a heart of pure gold._

It was nicely put, that. He could not help applying it to his Swan (not his, per se, at least not _yet_) because she was like the stubborn oyster, avoiding all attempts and tactics employed to try and reveal who she really was, she was guarded and lost and appeared to have no emotions for anyone excluding her lad.

But he deduced and observed, watched and learned until he possessed the ability read between the lines; he waited patiently until he could sneak within her ironclad defenses; he discovered that with patience and time and persistence, anyone could accomplish that quite easily. He discerned how pure and unbroken one little corner of her heart was, he perceived the flickers of hope reflected in her eyes, but he chose to utter not a word to her.

She would open up to him in time; she would soften up and realize some things (_the bloody lass, can't she realize what's good for her?)_ and reveal the shining, beautiful pearl that she masked with her gruff exterior.

She would show him the exquisite pearl that she really was.


End file.
